


sweet sixteen

by Wanderingchronicle



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-24
Updated: 2013-02-24
Packaged: 2017-12-03 10:00:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/697062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wanderingchronicle/pseuds/Wanderingchronicle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It is at that precise moment that Jane flings the door open, glasses askew, staring wide-eyed at you. </p>
<p>“It worked.” she said. “We’re back.”</p>
<p>(In which John Egbert finds out that sometimes, things really do turn out okay.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	sweet sixteen

**Author's Note:**

> So I wrote this at 2am last night. It's short but I'm rather proud of it.
> 
> I seem to have a habit of writing fluffy genfics. Probably because between all the sinking ships and things getting worse within the comic itself it's nice to be optimistic and hope for a happy ending.

This is it.

What you’ve been fighting for all these years.

You reach out for the doorknob, fingers shaking, and you open it, grasping blindly behind you. One of them takes your hand, and you hear a soft whisper behind you and the tiny, muted sound of you, the survivors, linking hands.

You step through. For one glorious moment, you can see the new earth below your feet, a tiny blue sphere suspended in the depths of space. you watch the continents split, civilisations rise and fall in sped-up motion, and then you drop. Everything shakes apart around you, every nerve in your body screams as everything tears apart, and then-

Nothing.

You lie flat on your back, your head cushioned on a pillow. Everything feels a bit fuzzy and disjointed. You remember the game, and you also remember several years of high school that you didn’t remember before. You sit up, scratch your head, put on your glasses, and look at your clock.

4.13 p.m., April Thirteenth. Your birthday.

It is at that precise moment that Jane flings the door open, glasses askew, staring wide-eyed at you. 

“It worked.” she said. “We’re back.”

You stare at each other for a few moments, before the sound of whistling comes from the kitchen and you both freeze. You can barely dare to believe it.

In almost perfect unison, you both get up and race down the stairs, where you find your father making himself a mug of tea, a pensive expression on his face. 

You both leap on him, hugging him, and before you can stop yourself you are bawling like a baby, getting snot and tears all over your father’s shoulder and generally being a disgrace. You know, somehow. from the way he accepts this so calmly that he knows, too. He remembers.

When you can finally tear yourself away, you race upstairs to your computer and log in, finding a million and one message alerts from your various friends. Dave, Rose, and Jade all video call you, every single one of them just as much of a tearful wreck as you are. Karkat makes a surprise appearance, knocking on your door, looking you over, and calling you a “bawling fuckwit” despite the fact that he’s still in tears himself. 

As the hours go by, more and more alerts pour in from all corners of the globe- Aradia in Scotland, Eridan in Norway, Feferi in Samoa, Kanaya in India. You use up an entire box of tissues, and stay up into the wee hours of the morning catching up with them all.

All in all, it’s the best birthday you’ve had in a long time.


End file.
